


Messages Carried on Broken Wings

by JeromeSankara



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Butterflies, Discord: IronStrange Haven, Grief/Mourning, IronStrange Week 2019, M/M, Tony Stark/Stephen Strange parenting Peter Parker | Supremefamily | Strange Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 00:08:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18905455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JeromeSankara/pseuds/JeromeSankara
Summary: When Tony feels alone, he takes a moment to come outside, where he knows the butterflies will always be waiting for him.Ironstrange Week 2019 - Butterflies/Ash





	Messages Carried on Broken Wings

There are two things that Tony Stark can never see the same way again. Butterflies and ash.

Ash was self explanatory. You don't just watch everyone who just fought alongside you turn to ash and dust and not grow to hate even the thought of it. There were no fireplaces wherever Tony called home. No campfires out with little Morgan to roast marshmallows, because everything turned to ash.

Ash was nothing more than death and the debris of aftermath. Ash was what became of his friends. Became of Peter. Became of  _ Stephen. _

He felt their lives drain out from between his fingers, unable to hold onto the pieces that only dusted his hands. Soon the ash and dust scattered away, becoming nothing more than the ground they walked upon. Maybe that was why Tony had sat there for so long under the beating suns and stars of Titan. Everywhere around him were the remains of comrades and family.

Butterflies, though…

He remembered the first time Stephen showed him the butterflies. The pale blue wings so alike his clear eyes, nothing but purity and magic held in the palm of his hand. So fragile yet still so beautiful. Ever since that time, the small creatures were almost like little messengers from Stephen. Times apart from each other were a little less lonely when one of those blue butterflies perched itself on his hand or his shoulder, soft like a kiss. They'd linger for him to take a moment and marvel, pulling him out of his head with little effort. Only once their duty had been fulfilled did they flutter away once more.

They never left. Not for good.

Tony watched them now as he sat on his doorstep, watching the specks of blue as they danced around the flowers he had specifically planted. He didn't know if they were actually alive or not, it didn't matter. They were still Stephen's and they were still gifts. Reminders that Stephen was here at all.

His fingers rolled the neck of an unopened bottle of liquor between them, trying to fight against the urges that still haunted him. There were days where he struggled against his loneliness, nights where Morgan would ask where Mommy was. Everyone else had a Mommy. Yes, she had Auntie Peppi, but she wasn't her Mommy. Why didn't she have a Mommy?

Because Mommy is gone, sweetheart. You were just a baby. He died so you would have a chance to live.

Tony was running out of ways to say that Stephen may never come back without outright telling their daughter. It had been five years since that day, and they were no closer to finding a solution. Wong was still pouring over every ancient rune or text he could find on this reality and the next, and still nothing. Who knows if they were alive at all? Perhaps their souls were extinguished like a flame, and all that was left… was ash.

He tipped the bottle to his lips, even when he knew it was sealed. Just a habit. Just go through the motions. Numb yourself any way you can.

A small glimpse of the blues pulled his attention back up to see one of the multitude of butterflies drifting towards him. It flew slowly, almost lethargic, but it landed on his hand all the same. In that moment, Tony let the bottle of liquor drop from his hand and land onto the soft grass below.

Tony knew this one. He knew by the torn wing. The sight alone sucked him back to five years ago, when he came home for the first time since Titan.

He had been out of his mind with grief, watching his husband and son turn to ash before him. Knowing that there had been no way to avoid their deaths had been the hardest part. Stephen said that this was the only way, but  _ how?  _ How could half the world dying be the way to win this fight?

Tony had been nearly mad with the fight to make sense of what happened and what was coming, frantically drawing schematics of weapons and anything he could think of to save his family from this fate. In the middle of his workshop, though, there was the butterfly. That single butterfly that just… watched him.

Mocking him with its presence.

_ The tools clattered on the floor hard, scattering in piles as Tony shoved them away. Nothing. Nothing he was doing was helping. There was nothing he could do, nothing he could think of, no solution in sight…! Stephen was depending upon him, Peter was depending on him, half the fucking  _ universe  _ depended on him! _

_ He stomped across the shop, shoving at random tables and wiping away screens as he went, expletives flying from his lips at an impressive rate. Why was he useless? Why could he solve every other problem this stupid universe had but not this one? _

_ He was Tony Fucking Stark. He'd saved this damn place a thousand times before and right when he was needed most…! _

_ Tony slapped another tray over, ignoring FRIDAY's urge to control himself and that losing his temper would have no positive effects. The AI would soon enough go tattle to Pepper or Happy or whoever else was in this godforsaken penthouse. It didn't matter to him. All that mattered was that Tony wasn't finding a solution. _

_ Already marching over to the coffee maker that was installed in the shop for this very reason, Tony stumbled to a stop when he saw that familiar blue resting on top of his mug. _

_ A butterfly stood on the lip of the mug, wings opening and closing like soft breaths. The blue was unmistakable; it was Stephen's. The mug was a gift from Stephen, with a classy "I went to Kamar-Taj and all I got was this mug" written across. Just a joke gift he had sent Tony while he had been training, but he used it religiously. _

_ As if realizing that it had been spotted, the butterfly's wings fluttered and it flew off the mug, closing the space between them. It landed onto Tony's outstretched hand, its feather weight barely detectable. The wings opened and closed again, mocking him with those beautiful blues. The color of his lover's eyes. _

_ The lover that may be gone forever because of Tony. _

_ A rage rushed through his veins, all the pent up aggression, despair and grief exploding within him. "Get out!" Tony roared at the insect, shaking it off of his hand. _

_ But it only fluttered again, hovering inches away from his face. It wouldn't leave. Just stared back at him, that silent question of why being thrown through his mind. Why didn't he save Stephen? Why did he let this happen? Why did he let the world end, why wasn't he strong enough to fight off Thanos… _

_ And why did Stephen sacrifice the stone for him? _

_ All Tony could answer with was why was this stupid butterfly allowed to be here and not his partner. _

_ Tony lashed out at the insect, grabbing it in his tight fist and throwing it to the ground. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair! The words pounded through his head over and over as he ravaged his shop, projects smashed into pieces, blueprints torn and thrown. _

_ All the while, that little butterfly laid crumpled on the ground, lifeless as its master. _

"Daddy!"

The voice pierced through his memory, and Tony blinked up from the butterfly that still rested on his hand.

Morgan was running down the sidewalk, until her eyes went wide. "Butterfly!" she squealed, hands outstretched as she sprinted towards them.

"Morgan," Tony quickly said, holding out his other hand. "You have to be quiet or you'll scare it away."

Her father's words made her eyes grow even wider, and she slowed to a stop a few feet away. She practically vibrated with excitement, but she managed to keep herself somewhat contained as she slinked closer. "It's so pretty," she cooed, her voice barely above a whisper.

"It's very pretty," Tony whispered back, inching himself closer to his daughter. He held his hand out slowly, even when he knew the butterfly would not leave. This one always stayed as long as it needed to.

As soon as Morgan was standing close enough, Tony reached out his other hand to take her tiny one in turn. "Now be very careful," Tony murmured, holding her eyes even as she was moments away from jumping out of her skin. "They're very small and can break easy. You can't pet it like a cat, or the wings might break."

He couldn't fight back the smile growing on his face when Morgan finally stilled, her eyes never leaving the butterfly. It only hesitated for a moment before crossing over from Tony's hand to Morgan's, resting on the back of her hand.

Her other hand immediately reached out to touch it, but she quickly remembered her father's words. It allowed her to simply marvel at the small creature, turning her hand to view it at all angles. "Woah…"

In time, Tony coaxed her to sit down beside him on the sidewalk, even as she fretted that the butterfly might leave if she moved too much. The butterfly roamed on her hand, sometimes crawling up to her shoulder and fluttering close to her face.

"Your mother made it," Tony said without thinking, and his body tensed. Talks about Stephen nowadays were few and far between. Morgan was too bright and asked too many questions.

"Silly Daddy, you can't make butterflies," she giggled in return, her eyes never leaving the torn blue wings.

"Your Mom could. He knew magic, remember?"

"You can make butterflies with magic?" Morgan gasped, finally looking back up at Tony. That ache came back, but Tony swallowed it down this time.

"He made all of these," Tony said, motioning to the butterflies still roaming the garden. "He would send them to me whenever I got lonely." 

Maybe he still sends them now, the tiny voice in his mind wondered. Maybe Stephen still watched over them, wherever he was. Maybe he was watching right now through these butterflies, and always has been.

"What else could Mommy do?"

"Well, he could do a lot of things…"

The answers seemed to come easier now, somehow. They sat and talked for what felt like an eternity but would always be too short. All Tony knew was that the moon was getting higher and Morgan's eyelids were growing heavy.

The butterfly never left, not until Tony coaxed Morgan to bring it back to the flowers and rest it atop the petals. Tony smiled, watching as the butterflies circled her, fluttering just inches away. "Say goodnight to the butterflies, baby. They'll go tell Mommy."

"Night, Mommy," Morgan yawned, waving to the butterflies as they passed by. "Tell Mommy to send more of you."

"I'm sure he will when he comes home," Tony murmured, if just to himself.

If Stephen was watching, he hoped that the message would reach him. That they were still here, still waiting for him to come home where his butterflies never left.


End file.
